


The End of the Story

by Dancingsalome



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-07-28 07:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16236983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingsalome/pseuds/Dancingsalome
Summary: Sophie de Clermont returns to Paris with a warning to Fabien Marchal, only to find she might be too late.Takes place after season 3. Warnings refer to events in the show.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It is, I suppose, a bit unfair to post a new fic when I already have WIP’s. But Remembrance is almost finished- it mainly needs cleaning up, and I just watched the last episode of season 3. And I have feelings about it I needed to get out of the system. And before I knew it, I had three chapters on a new fic written. And somehow, getting something out doesn’t really get out until it’s posted. So, possibly a bit teasingly here is the first bit, and hope this cools off enough now to let me finish Remembrance.
> 
> This fic will spoil all three seasons of _Versailles_.

_Sophie de Clermont, left motherless and destitute, hates Fabien Marchal with everything her passionate heart can muster._

_She hates him because he is the reason she is in this painful situation; she hates him for being the only one in the world she has to cling to. She hates him because, despite his handsome face, he does nothing to improve his looks. The way he moves, she hates that too. She hates his dour clothes, and it's not as if he couldn’t afford better ones. With her new skills, the ones he has taught her, Sophie makes it her business to find out what the King pays his head of security, and it is not money Fabien is lacking. And she hates him because when he finds out what she is doing, he doesn’t get angry over her prying. Instead, he seems oddly proud over her ingenuity, even if he tells her to stop. She also hates his voice which he never raises, even when she makes a mistake, and she hates it even more because it’s actually beautiful and she can’t help wondering if he can sing. And she hates his books, and how he always answers her questions, even if they are stupid._

_Sophie hates everything about Fabien Marchal until the day she realises she loves him._

_They meet in a deserted passage; she reports to him as she has so many time before. But before they are finished, they are suddenly surprised by courtiers, too drunk to realise they have strayed into the servant‘s territory, but not too drunk to know who Sophie is, and that she ought not to cavort with the King’s henchman. Fabien swings Sophie around, his back shielding her._

_“Put your arms around me,” he whispers, and Sophie flings her arms around his neck. Fabien’s other hand cups the back of her head, he bows his head to make them look for all the world like lovers embracing; and, by accident for sure, their lips meet._

_They freeze, but not until Sophie's mouth has parted a little and there they stand. Close, much closer than Sophie has ever been to Fabien, and something happens to her body. Cold shivers run down her back, but where he touches her, she is hot. His scent, while lacking the perfume the men at court lavish on themselves, goes to her head strangely. Clean linen and a trace of soap and something else which is only Fabien, and it’s better than the costliest perfume. The bare skin on her arms rests on fine wool, soft to the touch, and underneath broad shoulder, and strong arms holding her so securely against the drunken brawl behind them._

_Fabien’s lips are soft against hers, his embrace tightens a little and Sophie, a maiden still but not wholly without experience can feel him tremble. She smiles, and then the caress brought by necessity almost deepens to a real kiss. But the drunks disappears and Fabien lets her go without a word and leaves._

_Everything changes that night, and yet, nothing changes. Everything Sophie has told herself she hates, are now a source of joy. Their meetings, always before an intolerable intrusion in her life, are now eagerly anticipated, and always ending too soon. Her feelings have changed, so completely Sophie feels almost dizzy, and she can see Fabien feels it too. The way he looks at her is different, there are no more indifferent glances but looks which lingers on her form and face. How he sometimes stands so close she can feel the heat from his body. His hand next to hers, as if by accident, and yet he never touches her._

_Sometimes Sophie thinks she hates him again. Perhaps she does both, love and hate fused in her mind. Fabien is in her blood and has been since the moment he declared she belonged to him. That night, at the King’s masquerade, Fabien Marchal marked her soul and since then she can never be free._

_So she loves him until she thinks she only hates him, and then she loves him again. When Fabien sets her free, it’s in body only. Sophie flees France, leaving her heart in Versailles._


	2. Chapter 2

“You want what?” Sophie stared in incomprehension at Princess Eleanor. “You want to stay here?”

Their flight had ended a few months back in a convent where a cousin of the Princess was an abbess. It was safe, restful and- boring. Sophie felt she was slowly driven mad by boredom, and now Eleanor had just declared she wanted to take the veil and stay for good.

“But”, Sophie protested. “You are young. You can’t mean this. You like pretty clothes! And dancing! And-”

Eleanor thrust out her chin in a mulish gesture which told Sophie better than words the Princess had decided. “That was before. I like it here. And I don’t want to be married off to someone I don’t know, or move to a country no one knows me. I will stay here. And I will write to my uncle about it too!”

She clutched Sophie’s arm imploringly. “Oh Sophie, can’t you do as I? It would mean so much to have you here.”

But Sophie only smiled and shook her head before she excused herself with improper haste. Her heart was beating very hard, and she desperately needed to be alone. The surprise over Eleanor’s decision had abated, and now Sophie felt it was not such a bad thing. It would finally lift the responsibility she felt over the Princess well-being, and if she thought she would be happy as a nun, then so be it. More alarming was the letter to the Emperor. If it came out Eleanor was still alive, then it would not be long before King Louis would now. And then he would know how Fabien Marchal had deceived him. It could not be. She must warn him, and a letter would not do. The risk of it being intercepted was too great; there was no other choice for Sophie than to go herself. She had to, and the thought of seeing Fabien again made her feel happier than she had for a long time. Nevermind Fabien had promised to kill her if he ever saw her again, he must be told of the danger he was in.

Three days later Sophie was prepared to leave the convent. With little shame she extracted as much monetary help she could; after all Princess Eleanor wouldn’t be alive if Sophie had not helped her. She had also made Eleanor promise to not write any letters for at least a month. What little of clothes and jewelry Sophie had brought with her had been sold, apart from one gown. Somehow Sophie couldn’t resist bringing her most beautiful gown with her though she had no idea when she would ever need such sumptuous clothes again.

The journey to Paris was easy enough. Sophie dressed in the demure clothing of a servant girl, every luxuriant curl of black hair hidden under an unbecoming cap. She had lamented how the chores she had been assigned at the convent had rendered her hands less fine and white, but now it served her well. She used a little white paint to make her rosy cheeks pale, and a little soot smudged under her eyes removed some of their brilliance. And in case any man who she shared the traveling couch with would still try to talk with her, Sophie’s body racked with a persistent cough, prone to attack her when someone tried to involve her in conversation.

Though feeling impatient to reach her destination, Sophie felt no real hurry until news reached her, two days travel from Paris, which changed it all. She had searched out news at every stop, and in a small town, a coachman told the story of an attack to the King; an attack which had ended in a bloodbath, and the imprisonment of King’s head of security.

Sophie went cold. “Imprisoned? Fabien Marchal?”

“None other,” the coachman said with glee. “And not for long, I’m sure. That one couldn’t be hanged soon enough if you ask me.”

But Sophie didn’t ask. She returned to the inn she was staying at, feeling ill with worry. The rest of the journey Sophie silently willed the horses to run faster, cursing every delay, however minor, all the while questions without answers rushed through her mind. What, exactly, had Fabien done? Was it because of her words to him, the last time she saw him. What had she done? What would she do if she came too late? What could she do even if she didn’t?

Only now did Sophie realised how much she had expected them to meet again, regardless of the consequences. Fabien couldn’t die, not now. They had only had a few hours; was that all it would ever be? It wasn’t fair, their relationship had always been volatile; moving closer only to be parted again. When they had finally kissed it had felt like she had waited all her life for it to happen, and now she might never even see him again.

It was easy to find out where Fabien was imprisoned; the difficulties came when Sophie approached the guards with a woeful tale of being Fabien’s sister, wishing to convey the last farewell from an ailing father. It was a bold lie, but she didn‘t think anyone would recognise her. And she knew how secretive Fabien was about his past, so she doubted anyone would know if it was a lie, or not. She had been prepared to bribe the guards to be allowed to see Fabien, but they were not interested.

“No one is to see him.”

“But if he is to die? Surely you must allow him to see his sister one last time?”

The head guard looked at her, not without sympathy. “Death would be better for him, I’m sure. But the King has sentenced him to prison for life instead. And to never speak to another living being as long as it last. You better remember him as he was.”

“I will return tomorrow and ask again. I come every day until you let me in. Please!”

“You can do that, but it won’t change anything. And he’ll be gone soon; he’ll be moved from Paris any day now.”

Daunted Sophie had to retreat and go through her options. She had very few, but what she had might be enough. For many years Fabien’s Head Musketeer had been a man called Michel. Sophie had never had much to do with him, but he was one of the few who knew about her relation to Fabien. He was a hard-working and loyal man, and Fabien trusted him as much as it was possible for him to trust anyone. There was a danger Michel would arrest her if she approached him, but she could not think of anyone else who might be willing to help her.

It was more difficult to find a way to speak to Michel, and Sophie fretted but the next evening she found an opportunity to sidle up to him on a little-frequented street.

He gave her a dismissive glance. “Go away, woman. I’m not interested.”

Sophie stepped closer. “But I think you may be.”

He came to an abrupt halt. “Duchess!”

But then he quickly grabbed her and pulled Sophie into a narrow alleyway.

“Fabien told me you were dead. Why are you here? Wouldn’t it be better for you to stay dead?”

“I‘m here for Fabien.”

“He’s in jail.”

“I know. I want to do something about it, and I need your help.”

Michel looked away. “I should take you into custody, that’s what I ought to do. And it would be impossible to get inside that prison.”

“But if I tell you he will be moved soon?”

He sighed. “Fabien went against the King.”

“Do you really feel pleased he will rot in jail for the rest of his life? You worked with him for so long, you know what kind of man he is.”

“I know. And he has saved my life, more than once.”

Michel fell silent, and even if Sophie wanted to scream at him to decide, she understood it was not easy for him. Eventually, he spoke again.

“Even if I could help you, what good would it do? If Fabien flees, the King will not rest until he is captured again.”

Sophie smiled. “But we are not coming to the rescue; we are going to kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michel is not quite made up by me. In my mind, he is the Head Musketeer played by the rather lovely Cédric Vallet, but the show never gives him a name. So I provided.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be sentenced to silence and imprisonment for life was an actual punishment in Louis XIV France. Several persons involved in the Affair of Poisons received this sentence, for example.

Michel’s hand went to his sword, his brow furrowing in anger, and at that moment Sophie knew for certain she could trust him.

“What are you saying, woman!”

“Hear me out. No one has been looking for me because no one knows I’m still alive. They will only hunt a man who has fled; a dead man they will simply bury.”

Michel relaxed. “That is true. But you were already gone, so no one missed your dead body. Fabien is another matter.”

“I have an idea,” Sophie said. “ But without you, it’s not possible. I need your help.”

There was another pause, but shorter this time, before Michel nodded. “I will help you.”

Sophie smiled in relief. “Do you know when they will move Fabien?”

“I can find out, but my guess is by the next full moon, four days away. Then they can move him at night with the help of the moonlight.”

“And can you find two more men willing to help us? And a key to unlock his irons?”

“That should not be a problem.”

“Good. Then we only need a dead body. And a white horse.”

Michel who hadn’t even blinked at the mention of a corpse looked surprised.

“Why would we need a white horse?”

“Because everyone knows the Duchess of Cassel always rides a white horse.”

The four days Sophie had to wait for the full moon, were the longest days she had ever suffered through. Especially the first two days when she heard nothing from Michel, and she had to wait alone in the cheap room he had helped her find. Doubt crept in, and she jumped at every sound, fearing Michel would betray her, and he would return only to arrest her. But when he finally came he did so to confirm Fabien would be moved as he had predicted. He also took her away from Paris, to an isolated cabin close, he claimed, to the road the prison coach would take. It was small; only a single room with little more than a bed, a table and two simple stools, and outside a shack to shelter horses.

After discussing their plans again, Michel left her alone, promising to come for her when it was time. He left Sophie plenty of supplies and also a chest with some of Fabien’s belongings he had salvaged. As it was unlocked, Sophie went through it and found Fabien’s clothes and weapons. None of Fabien’s precious books were there, but at the bottom she found a parcel, so heavily sealed with strings and sealing wax it was impossible to get a peek at the content, though Sophie surmised it must be documents of some kind., There were also a well-filled purse and a few personal belongings, like a comb and a shaving knife.

Sophie busied herself with going through Fabien’s clothes, carefully mending what needed to be repaired. When she handled the garments, she could feel the scent of him, and she wrapped his cloak around her and inhaled, pretending he was there, embracing her. Something he might never do again even if they could rescue him. Sophie has not forgotten his words, and perhaps she would only free him to meet her own death.

Memories of her mother slithered through her mind like venomous snakes. Beatrice had been guilty of her crimes, but what did Sophie’s innocence matter if Fabien thought her responsible for the Queen’s death? But regardless of what would happen to her, Sophie knew she had to help him. The thought of him imprisoned without hope was unbearable to her. Images, all terrible, of what could happen to him in prison crowded in her mind, and they grew worse the more she thought about them. If Fabien had been condemned to never talk again; could he still speak? A man without tongue could not divulge any secrets.

The last day finally dawned. Sophie prepared everything she could imagine Fabien would need. He would be hungry, so she made a soup, ready to warm for him when they came back. And he would want to clean himself, so she dragged up plenty of water from the well and carried it into the cabin. When everything was to her satisfaction, she turned her attention to her own appearance.

Sophie dressed as carefully as if she still had been at Versailles. The court gown she had brought had been aired and pressed, and, not without difficulties as she had to dress without the help of a maid, she was once again clad in lavish silks and lace. With the same care, she arranged her hair in high and elaborate curls and applied makeup fit for a grand ball. To finish her ensemble, she even applied perfume; the last precious drops of what had once cost her a not insignificant amount of money.

When Michel came to fetch her, he looked at her dazzling finery with disquiet alarm. “We are not going to a ball, Duchess. This is not suitable.”

“No, but it’s perfect. We will set a stage, and I intend to make my performance memorable.”

Michel and Sophie met two other men at a point they assured Sophie would be the best place to stage an attack. They were masked and did not volunteer their names. On the ground were several cans of oil; they had agreed the best way to hide the evidence was to burn down the coach. And, next to them, a large bundle; the dead man.

Sophie, who had spared little thought before on where to corpse would be obtained, shuddered.

“Who was he?

“A self-murderer who was dragged from the Seine. Poor sod; but at least he will get a proper burial now.”

There was little Sophie could do of the more practical aspects of an ambush; she waited hidden until the sounds told her the guards had been unarmed and taken away to be tied up some distance from the coach. Then she impatiently had to wait until the lock on the door had been broken down, but then she climbed into the couch. Fabien blinked at her in the light from the lantern, his eyes sunken deep into their sockets.

“Sophie,” he said in a voice hoarse from disuse, and she almost wept from joy. He could speak, he had not been maimed. Sophie had brought his coat with her, and now she wrapped it around him, ignoring the stench of unwashed skin and clothes. Then she backed out again, allowing the men to free Fabien and substitute him with the dead man.

Instead, she went to the guards, who, even if they could not see the exchange taking place, could still see the coach. Sophie raised her lantern, making sure as much light as possible illuminated her. The bound men looked at her with some astonishment.

“Do you know who I am?”

“No, my lady.”

“I’m the Duchess of Cassel, and I have a message for the King I want you to convey. Tell him I have risen from my grave to exact revenge for me and my mother. Prison was too good for Fabien Marchal; tonight he will burn in hell.”

And as if her word has acted as the ignition, the coach burst into flame the moment she had delivered her little speech. Michel, still heavily disguised became visible on horseback, leading Sophie’s white horse so she could mount it. When seated she turned so the guards could have one last look at her, before they left, leaving the burning coach far behind them as fast as possible.


	4. Chapter 4

Sophie and Michel rode for several minutes until they were sure no one at the coach could hear them anymore before they changed direction to meet up with the other men at a pre-arranged point. To Sophie’s relief, Fabien rode on his own horse, though he seemed tired and slumped in his saddle. The two other men, still masked and nameless, left without a word, and they slowly made their way back to the cabin. When they finally arrived, Michel saw to the horses and Sophie and Fabien entered the house.

Fabien sat down on a stool, his movements heavy and slow. His hair was longer than Sophie had seen it before, hanging tangled and matted around his face. His neat moustache and beard had all but disappeared into a full beard as he had not shaved for a long time. Sophie bustled around, heating soup, cutting bread, and warming water for washing. Despite knowing his time in prison must affect Fabien, she hadn’t realised he would be so changed. He had always been the one in control, and now his passivity felt strange and uncomfortable. There were no allusions to their last conversation though Sophie knew it could only be a temporary respite.

When she gave him a bowl of steaming soup, Fabien hesitated, giving her a cautious look.

“I can taste it first if you are afraid I will poison you.”

He looked at her for a few moments longer, but then he ate, gulping down the food in a haste which caused Sophie to worry he would eat too much too quickly.

Michel entered the house, only to bid farewell. “I will return in a few days. If I don’t, well, don’t linger here.”

He clasped Fabien’s hand and nodded to Sophie and departed. They both listened to the sound of hoofbeats disappearing, and then Fabien stood up.

“Is the water warm enough?”

“I think so. I will leave you alone.”

“There is nothing here you haven’t seen before.” And then, after a brief pause. “I could do with some help.”

Sophie dressed down to her chemise to not spoil the silk of her court gown with water spots. She felt a little shy; not because of the state of undress they both were in, but because the situation was so strange. There was no bath in the cabin, but Sophie had found a large tub Fabien could stand in while she poured bucket after bucket of water over him. The sight of him without clothes deepened her worry; he was too thin, and there were fading bruises all over his body. And, even more horrifying, the still unhealed mark of a stylized lily, burned into his arm.

“What have they done to you?”

Fabien shrugged. “Nothing I haven’t done to others myself.”

But Sophie who knew more of what Fabien could do than she wanted to, did not feel reassured by his words.

He more fell into the bed than climb into it, asleep at once. Sophie studied him in worry, lamenting how gaunt and wretched he looked. But he was not running a fever, and Sophie thought his ordeal had merely exhausted, rather than permanently harmed him. Sleep and food would most likely restore him. Then she mopped the floor and packed away her fine clothes. A last farewell to the Duchess of Cassel; she was sure she would never use that name again, and it felt like a relief. The night's adventures were catching up with her and exhausted she slipped into the bed beside Fabien. He stirred, but only to move closer to her. Sophie put her arm around him, nestling close and soon fell asleep.

For a night, a day, and another night, Fabien slept. Sophie shook him awake from time to time to make sure he ate and could see to his bodily needs, but he fell asleep again as soon as he could. But then, the second days morning he spoke as Sophie cooked porridge.

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

Sophie smiled at him over her shoulder, relieved to see him awake by his own accord. “I’ve been in a convent since you last saw me. I learned many things there. Cooking and gardening I liked well enough. The praying- not so much.”

“No, I can’t imagine you would.”

Fabien still spent most of the day in bed, taking long naps, but Sophie didn’t have to wake him up anymore. He consented to Sophie combing out the snags in his hair and to cut it, and he also shaved with evident relief. The next day he woke up with her and said would feed the horses. Sophie let him though she peeked through the small window to make sure everything went well. But though he still moved in a slow and deliberate way, he didn’t seem as exhausted anymore.

When he came inside again, he went to his chest and pulled out his weapon. With his sword and knife in place, he seemed to fill out, looking like himself again.. He turned to Sophie who had watched him in silence. She knew what was coming now, but somehow she didn’t feel scared.

“You saved me. Why? Why did you come back?”

“Because I love you. There was no other choice than coming.”

“Don’t you remember what I said to you when I last saw you?”

“Every word.”

He held up the door. “Let’s go.”

With no protests, Sophie went past him, into the sunshine outside.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New tag added. It's hard to talk about Sophie's past and not mention abuse.

Sophie slowly picked her way through the trees surrounding the cabin, with Fabien walking close behind. Even now, when Fabien was not fully recovered, she would never stand a chance against him, but she probably could outrun him. But what was the point in running now? Regardless of the outcome she and Fabien needed to talk, and the moment for it was here and now. And where would she run, back to Eleanor? It was better to die today than live as a living dead in a nunnery for the rest of her life.

Close to the house was a place where the trees grew more sparse, and the ground gently sloped down into a meadow with a small stream at the bottom. Sophie sat down on a boulder, carefully arranging her skirts around her and Fabien leaned against a tree and crossed his arms. For a few minutes none of them spoke, then Fabien broke the silence.

“When I last met you, I said I would do my duty if I ever saw you again.”

“I remember.”

“But then I owned my loyalty and duty to the KIng. I don’t serve him anymore. Who do I own my duty to now?”

Sophie regarded him thoughtfully. He wasn’t looking at her, his face blank and unreadable.

“Yourself, Fabien. To your own sense of right and wrong. And you owe it to the memory of the Queen She deserves your faithfulness and service far more than the King ever did. But you don’t need me to tell you this. What you want is for me to solve a riddle for you; are you to choose between your duty or your heart? You are torn by what you think you know and wish not to be true. What will you do to find out? Torture me until I confess? I’m sure you can make me say whatever you like if you try hard enough.”

He gave her a look of real horror. “No! Do you think I’m devoid of all feelings?”

“I know you are not. But if you are waiting for me to say I killed the Queen to ease your conscience, then you will wait forever.”

“So tell me again you didn’t do it!”

“No.”

Fabien looked baffled. “Why not?”

“I’ve already protested my innocence. If you didn’t believe me then, it doesn’t matter how many times I repeat it now. I can beg on my knees, I can cry, I can say it to you whenever you need to hear it, but it would still only be to help you to pretend you believe me. It would be worthless words. For you, and for me.”

Fabien rubbed his face. “You know more about the Queen’s death than you have said.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Tell me what that is, at least.”

“I will tell you everything I know, I promise, but decide if I’m a liar, or not, first. If I tell you now, you may only hear more lies.”

There was another silence, longer this time before Fabien spoke again.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

Sophie racked her memories. Fabien had always been part of Versailles, always there as an ominous shadow in the background, but she could not recall when she saw him for the first time.

“No.”

“I do. We met in a staircase, and as you walked down and past me, you looked at me and smiled. Such a sweet and joyful smile made even lovelier by being the only smile someone had given me for many years.”

“I don’t remember.”

“No, why should you? You had not been many days at Versailles then, and you smiled at everyone. I knew it couldn’t last; the next time you saw me you shrank away like everyone else. I thought it was a pity someone so gentle would be corrupted like everyone else coming to Versailles. But I watched you, and you remained sweet and kind when everyone else around you hardened.”

“I didn’t think you knew who I was back then.”

“Oh, I saw you. But you were not for me. Too young and too innocent. So I looked elsewhere.”

“You looked at my mother instead.”

“Yes. Not a wise choice.”

“I loved my mother, but she was not a kind woman. You had a taste of her cruelty, but did you think I was exempt from it? I decided long before she died I would never become like her. All my life I have strived to be better than her; a dutiful and obedient daughter and subject. The girl who smiled to you believed kindness would always be met with kindness. What did it give me?”

Sophie stood up and faced Fabien. “I don’t blame you for my mother’s death. She was guilty of her crimes, and you only did your duty. I understand that. But I blame the King for making her the way she was when he had my father killed. And I hate him for selling me to a monster, knowing full well what kind of man Cassel was. And all for nothing, Cassel was far too adept to let a wife find out his secrets, and I learned nothing. My innocence drowned in blood on my wedding night. For nothing.”

Memories, old and painful almost overwhelmed her, and Sophie turned away, hugging her arms around her to shield her from them.

“I took refuge with Madame afterward. For two days she kept me safe in her rooms. She soothed my nightmares and tried to ease my horror when I woke up only to realise being awake was worse than my dreams. For two days she protected me, and then came a message from the King; I was to return to my husband’s bed. A Princess word is nothing against a King’s. And two guards escorted me back to Cassel’s room like the prisoner I was and left me alone with a torturer who would never stop. No confessions would save me, and no one would come to my salvation.”

She turned back to Fabien and saw a shadow of her own pain in his eyes. “But you already know this, and that is why you never blamed me for his death.”

“Strong men have broken from less than what you had to endure. I would have killed him myself if I could. I wish I had.”

“I know. But when the Queen died you wondered. Daughter of a murderess, and a murderess herself. Poison is so easy administered; even easier for me who had the Queen’s trust. I know you thought it; I could see it in your eyes.”

Now it was Fabien’s turn to look away. “Yes, I thought it. Have you killed once, it’s so easy to kill again. Before you know it, you have lost count. Even of those you know were innocent. I didn’t want that fate for you. I have blood on my hands, Sophie, from too many people. I know how heavy that burden is.”

Sophie could feel a strange stillness coming over her. “You absolve me from the murder you know I’m guilty of, but you want to kill me for a crime I have not confessed to, and you don‘t have any proof I did. Is it that easy for you to believe I could kill a good and innocent woman only because I’m no longer innocent myself? And if you avenge the Queen with my blood, will it wash you clean?”

Fabien’s face, still too gaunt from his imprisonment was pinched in misery. “With your blood on them, they would be sullied forever.”

“And you are still determined to kill me.”

“If you murdered the Queen; death is what you deserve.”

“And you, what do you deserve for those guiltless you have killed?”

“The same. It’s easy to find death for a man like me.”

A great anger seized Sophie, taking her by surprise, and she grabbed Fabien’s shoulders, almost shaking him.

“No! I didn’t save you so you can seek death in a battle somewhere; to die unmourned and lost! I will not allow it. Yes, the Queen’s killer deserves to die. If you believe, truly believe, my sins had made me a monster, and I did it, then you can’t let me go. But look at me, Fabien! Look at the woman standing here in front you. I’m no longer the girl who smiled at you, but I’m not my mother either. No one knows me better than you. I trust you, and I would do anything for you. But if you don’t trust me now, you never will. So look at me, and think of the bad things I have done, and the good things too. Am I able to kill a good and honourable woman, or not?”

Her onslaught of words made Fabien flinch, but he didn’t move away from her. Sophie touched his cheek gently. “I don’t want to die. I want to be with you and be happy. I deserve a little happiness, and so do you. But if you don’t believe me, you already know I’m not innocent. I will not confess to what I haven’t done, but I will not deny I poisoned my husband. My death would be a just punishment for that crime, and I don’t want you to feel any guilt. I forgive you.”

Fabien leaned into her touch, and his own hand caressed her face in return. Sophie looked up into his eyes, willing him to hear the truth in her words. The seconds stretched into an eternity, the entire world seemed to hold its breath, and she waited with it for Fabien to reach his decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an unexpectedly difficult chapter to write. Too much melodrama? But the whole show is basically non-stop scenes of melodrama...


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise it took me so long, but I got stuck at the beginning of this chapter, and it took me a while to get unstuck.

Sophie waited for Fabien’s answer, and she prayed. Prayed he would believe her and prayed she would have the strength to die with dignity if he didn’t. An eternity passed before Fabien seemed to relax a little and finally spoke.

“When the Queen fell ill, you looked like a startled deer whenever the affliction was spoken of. I saw you where you shouldn’t have been, and your conduct, when questioned, was very strange, and then I found that odd box. I could only conclude your actions were those of a guilty woman, and when we last met, I had no reason to think otherwise.

But I had nothing but time and my thoughts while I was in prison. And I thought of how no one ever suspected you when Cassel was dying; how there were no rumours, not even a hint, his illness wasn’t natural, despite everyone knowing how he treated you. The whole court filled with gossip and accusations of poison, but none directed at you. And the way you behaved, always so calm and collected; I would never have suspected you if Madame Agathe had not written your name in her book. So I wondered why your behaviour was reversed when I knew so well what you were capable of. And I realised you were purposely acting like you were guilty, and that you wanted me to suspect you. I don’t know your reason for that charade, but I think you were acting out a little play for the benefit of me, or perhaps someone else. It was the only thing which made sense. So no, I don’t think you killed the Queen, and I haven’t for a long time.”

Sophie started at Fabien in bewilderment. “But if you changed your mind, why did you let me think you still suspected me?”

“Because I wanted to be sure.” Fabien smiled a real smile which made his eye crinkle briefly. “As you said; I know you better than anyone else. I know you are an adept liar, and you have a remarkable ability to remain in control during the most disquieting moments. But I also know that if someone shakes you out of your calm and rouse your passion enough, you abandon all pretence and speak the truth, no matter what it is. Didn’t you know that? I knew if I could unsettle you enough when we were alone, you would tell me nothing but the truth.”

“You tricked me!”

“A little. Did you really think all the confessions I got were only because of torture? It is not so difficult to make people talk if you only know how to play them.”

“So you lied to make me speak.”

“The only lie was to make you believe I still thought you guilty.”

Sophie felt very strange, almost as if she was to faint. The true meaning of Fabien’s words was now clear to her. He believed her, and the fear she had lived with for so long was gone. She had longed for Fabien, but she had also been afraid of him, but now there was no reason to fear him anymore. The relief almost overcame her, and she swayed on her feet, all strength deserting her For a moment she thought she would fall, but then Fabien’s arms were around her, and she leaned against his chest. She wanted to cry and laugh her whole body shook from the emotions, and it felt so good to stand there close to Fabien. But then she collected herself and took a step back. There were still things she needed to say, and so she returned to her boulder and sat down again. This time Fabien sat down beside her.

“You are right. I wanted to look guilty. And I’m not beyond approach, Fabien. There are so many things I wish I had done differently. You know I went to the court of William of Orange, and I found him an honourable man. But politics and alliances move and suddenly I found myself in the Emperor’s service instead. He is a very frightening man. I thought I would never be scared of a man again, not after Cassel, but the Emperor is the same kind of man as my husband was.”

Fabien’s jaws clenched, and Sophie hurried to continue.

“He displayed no interest in my body, but he shared the pleasure of seeing people afraid of him. It terrified Princess Eleanor; he used to come into her room and scare her into hysteria, and I could see he enjoyed it. And he is ruthless; when he told me I had to kill the Queen, I knew he would see me dead if I refused. So I pretended I was going to do his bidding. I picked up that little box you found; there were some kind insects in them. I thought that was good news; if the Queen didn’t die, I could blame it on the chance the insects wouldn’t bite her. I foolishly thought it would buy me a little time before the Emperor would realise there must be another attempt. I thought it would give me enough time to think of something to do. I went to the Queen’s room the night you saw me, and I made sure you weren’t the only one who noticed me. But by then those insects were crushed and burned, and what was in the box were some harmless bugs from the garden.”

Sophie glanced at Fabien. He was looking thoughtful but said nothing, only nodded to her to continue.

“But then the Queen fell ill, anyway. At first, I thought she had succumbed to something natural, but I wanted the Emperor to think I had done it, so I made sure to look like I had a guilty conscience. It wasn’t difficult as I was anxious for the Queen by then, and when she died, it devastated me. But I still thought she died by a natural illness. Then you found the box, which should have been impossible. You see, I got rid of that box the same night I released the bugs. Someone had put it back. And as you grow more and more suspicious, I realised I had always been meant to the scapegoat, regardless if I followed orders or not.

Now I blame myself for not trusting in you; perhaps the Queen could have been saved if I had. But I was so scared by then and I didn’t know what to do. I don’t know who had poisoned the Queen. I know the Emperor has many spies at Versailles, but I don’t know who they are. I could feel the trap closing on me, and when I realised the King wanted Princes Eleanor dead, I knew I couldn’t let it happen. And as I feared for my life, we ran, more in panic than anything else.”

Sophie tentatively touched Fabien’s hand. “Do you still think I’m innocent?”

Fabien took her hand very gently. “None of us are innocent. I think regret must follow us for the rest of our lives, but I don’t think you could have saved the Queen if you had acted differently. I’m not sure I would have believed you if you had come to me. I want to think I would have, but I don’t know. You tried your best, but it’s not always enough.”

They sat in silence, their hands still clasped, and then Fabien spoke again.

“I never thanked you for saving me.”

“I wasn’t alone. I could never have done it without Michel’s help.”

“Michel is a good man; reliable and brave. But he is not a strategist; he would never have been able to plan my escape. But you could.”

Sophie blushed. “Yes, I did..”

“I would not have survived imprisonment for long, and my sanity would have gone long before that. I was already half-demented when you came, and I first thought the vision of you was only my own crazed mind playing tricks on me. You risked your life for me without knowing I wouldn’t try to kill you as soon as I saw you.”

“I was afraid. But it didn’t matter. When I heard of your arrest, I had no other choice than to come back.”

Fabien lifted her hand and pressed a kiss against it.

“I thought no one would care if I lived or died. I’m glad to know I was wrong.”

They went back to the cottage soon after. It dawned on Sophie as they walked that had a future now. They would only need to get away from the vicinity of Paris, and then they would be almost safe. Fabien must have had the same thought because he opened his chest as soon as they returned and removed the sealed parcel Sophie had noticed earlier. He examined it and looked pleased to see all the seals unbroken before he carefully opened it. As she had thought it contained several documents, most of them clearly legal.

“What is this? Sophie asked.

“My future. I always planned to be able to retire incognito if I wasn’t killed in the King’s service. I have made far too many enemies to want anyone to know where I would go. Here are the deeds to an estate in the south, and there are also investments here, all under another name than my own. There should be plenty to keep us comfortable. Perhaps we shouldn’t stay in France at all, but I think we could safely go there first.”

Fabien hesitated. “That is if you want to go with me; I can’t promise you a life with me will be without danger. If not I will see you back to Princess Eleanor’s convent first.”

“I go where you go, Fabien. Without you, I’m not alive.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, obviously I really like Fabien/Sophie. And large chunks of season 3 made me squeal in utter delight. However, some things felt completely out of character and annoyed me a great deal. I don’t think Sophie could ever murder someone who is completely innocent, and someone she likes to boot. I fully expected a plot twist where it would be revealed she was innocent, and I was very disappointed it never came (but I watched it without subtitles, and I still hope I somehow missed it.). And with Sophie guilty, then I don’t buy Fabien letting her go. For any other reason, yes, but not for the murder of an innocent woman. And then, ending the show for good with Fabien in status quo in prison. Argh!
> 
> Therefore the need for a fix-it fic.


End file.
